A Victor's Ally - The 99th Hunger Games
by jul312
Summary: Juliet Breyer, a seventeen-year-old tomboy living in District 7, thought it was hard enough watching her best friend Luke Alvario compete in the 98th Hunger Games. When he won, she thought everything would go back to normal. Now it was time for the 99th Hunger Games, and her life was about to take another crazy turn. This time, she wasn't sure if she would come out alive.
1. Chapter 1

**A Victor's Ally - Chapter 1**

My laugh echoed in the empty forest as I swung from one tree branch to another, risking a glance behind me to see my pursuer. Reaching the end of another line of trees, I used my momentum to propel my body up and around the tree branch, doing a complete circle before I finally let go. As I soared through the air I contorted my body into a flip before I reached the ground and landed on my feet, arms out for balance. I straightened my body, only to be knocked down onto the grass by a heavy force.

"Luke," I let out a laugh, my voice muffled by the ground, "What in Panem was that for?" In an attempted to push his body off of me, I wiggled my body and pushed my hands against his chest...to no avail. His muscular body leaned heavily on mine, making it harder to breathe.

"You're getting my clothes dirty." I whined, letting my body go still. His chest vibrated against mine in a rumbling laughter, and although I could't see his face, I could imagine the tears brimming in the corner of his eyes.

"Since when have you ever been worried about how your clothes look? Or your hair, for that matter?" Luke propped himself up on his elbows, an impish grin plastered on his face. My smile matched his as I gazed up at him, looking into his light blue eyes that I was always jealous of. The eyes of my best friend used to be so clear, almost always containing a glint that let you know he was up to something. Now, his entire face was guarded, as if he wouldn't allow himself to forget.

Forget the 98th Hunger Games, or forget the new problems he has to face with the Capital. You would think that after being crowned victor, the problems would end. Instead, Luke has to face an entire new set of issues. The Capital won't leave him alone, always catching him off guard and whisking him away to that god awful city.

I knew better then to bring up the subject of his victory-it would only bring back unwanted memories of the arena, for Luke and for myself. While Luke was in the arena, I was stuck in District 7…watching as my best friend fought for his life against 24 others. During the finale, Luke watched as the psychotic girl from District 1 picked off the remaining members of his alliance, leaving them to face off as the final two. In the end he managed to knock her off the side of the cliff, but not before she delivered a nasty cut down his arm, leaving a permanent scar that even the Capital couldn't fix.

Once he returned, he was never the same. For the first few weeks he refused to see anyone, and it wasn't until after his victory tour that we were able to rekindle our friendship. Even then, it was different. His whole demeanor had changed from the fun-loving boy I used to know, to a careful, guarded man.

My eyes fixated on the long, jagged scar that ran down his forearm. Avoiding his eyes, I traced my forefinger lightly down it. Luke inhaled sharply, his body going rigid and quickly rolling off of mine. I sat up and avoided his stare to save myself from future embarrassment. We were both on edge today, and my mood instantly dampened once I realized why.

"The reaping is today," I stated glumly, my eyes downcast. "I still have two years left, Luke. You know how many times my name is in the bowl, with the tesserae and all. I know you offered to help pay, but I just couldn't let you do that. But Luke, what if-" The words caught in my throat and my hands shook slightly as I thought of the possibilities. District 7 wasn't exactly the largest district, and I knew the odds were not in my favor.

Luke remained silent, his body stretched out next to mine as we looked up at the blue sky. The sun beat down on us, almost as if it was teasing us. Such a nice day, but such a horrible event was taking place. How ironic.

"We should go, Jules. We can't be late for the reaping." Luke voiced my own thoughts, standing up and offering me a hand.

I sighed as I ran my hand through my knotty ponytail, knowing that I would have a hard time making myself look nice. I punched his arm lightly, and took off through the woods, racing him back toward the town.

* * *

I have always been 'one of the guys' for as long as I can remember. So, given that, you can imagine how horrible it was for me to be standing in front of the mirror in a light pink dress with a matching ribbon in my hair.

"Juliet, you look so nice!" My thirteen-year-old sister shrieked as she finished tying the ribbon into a perfect bow at the end of my braid. Kit turned me around, and I came face to face with her big, innocent blue eyes. Obviously, she was not the slightest bit worried for the reaping. Unlike Kit, my name was in there countless times. Being seventeen, my chance was already high, and I had taken on as much tesserae as I could so she wouldn't have to.

"Is this really necessary?" I grumbled, giving Kit a pleading look. At least I had managed to dissuade Kit from leaving my hair down in curls. I fingered the intricate braid that ran down my shoulder, slightly in awe at Kit's skill. Although it didn't mean I was happy with it.

"Luke will love you in this!" She squealed, avoiding my question. I rolled my eyes in exasperation, explaining to her once again that Luke and I were best friends and that we didn't think about each other in that way.

She sighed obviously ignoring my reasoning. "Geez Juliet, just because you act like a boy doesn't mean you can't date one." She shook her head in mock disappointment before pushing me out the door of our shared bedroom.

Grumbling and groaning, I took Kit by the hand and we made our way to the town center where the reaping was held. After going through the standard procedure, I made my way to the seventeen year old section, pausing for a moment to give Kit one last reassuring hug.

"We'll be okay." I mumbled against her hair as I held her close, more for me then for her. She pulled away with a smile and walked off with her friends. I took a deep breath before entering my section, pushing past a group of weeping girls. What was their problem? Judging by their fancy dresses and perfect makeup, I assumed they belonged to the richer part of the district. They obviously didn't have to worry about tesserae increasing their chances. I scoffed. Girls. This was why I didn't get along with them.

I turned my attention to our escort who was taking the stage. Luke was seated toward the back of the stage, a stone cold expression on his face. His sharp blue eyes were focused on the escort, but I could tell he wasn't really listening. Next to him sat an older man, Hutch, obviously drunk. His head lolled to the side and he looked sloppy, as if he had just woken up. Hutch had won the 68th Hunger Games at the ages of 18, and shortly after resorted to alcohol to solve his problems. Johanna Mason had been the most recent victor besides Luke, but she was killed during the rebellion, along with the rest of the rebels that participated in the 75th Hunger Games. Johanna was one of the best known martyrs, but after the obliteration of District 12 no one dared to say that, let along think it.

Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I once again averted my attention to our escort, Hilda. Decked out in orange head to toe, she looked like a carrot. I grinned at the thought, but it shortly disappeared when I realized I had missed the entire introduction to the reaping.

Someone was about to get picked. I just hoped it wasn't Kit. Or me.

"How about ladies first!" Hilda giggled, reaching her fingers into the clear bowl. Her long fingernails wiggled in the glass before plucking a single white paper. My gaze settled on Luke's rigid stature. He wasn't as focused as before. His hands gripped the underside of his chair so hard that his knuckles turned white. His stare looked almost crazed, and I felt a pang of pity for him. It would be his first year as a mentor, and considering Hutch was incapable of doing anymore then drinking his way through the games, he was basically alone.

"Is there a Juliet Breyer in the audience?" Hilda cleared her throat, looking around as if expecting someone to hold up a sign, pointing to the next victim of the Hunger Games.

It took a moment to register before I finally processed the name that was called. I heard a sob coming from the thirteen year old section, and I vaguely recognized Kit's high pitched wail. Seemingly in a daze, I took a few hesitant steps toward the stage, only to be roughly grabbed by a peacekeeper who hurried my approach. I winced, knowing that would leave a bruise. The pain shocked me out of my dream-like state, and I thrashed, attempting to shake the peacekeeper off of me. Kit's sobs pierced through the quiet air, each one louder than the first.

I managed to catch my balance after being roughly pushed onto the stage. I desperately tried to catch Luke's gaze, but his face was turned away from me, unusually pale compared to his normal tan complexion. Swallowing deeply, I answered Hilda's question, confirming my name and age. My voice sounded detached, as if it belonged to someone else.

Hilda gave me a smile, unfazed by my inability to form more than a few coherent sentences.

"Now onto the men! Who will be the lovely man representing District 7 in the 99th Hunger Games?" I spent the next few seconds frantically searching the crowd for Kit, although I was exactly sure I wanted to see her in such a state.

"Atlas Lennox!" Our escort's voice rang through the silence, welcoming a tall, broad shouldered boy up to the stage. I recognized him from school, but I had never held a conversation with him. He would have seemed like a normal kid, except for the creepy smirk on his face, like he was enjoying this. His blond hair was almost white, and his grey eyes didn't hold the same shine that Luke's had. Instead, they held something that caused a shiver to go up my spine. His eyes held a crazy look, the same one I had seen on the District 1 girl's face as she dug her knife into Luke's arm, the moment before she fell to her death.

I reluctantly shook hands with him, feeling his cold, stiff hands against my sweating ones.

Well, this sucked.

* * *

"We love you so much, and we know you'll do us proud, no matter what happens." My mom embraced me in a hug, my dad following close behind. I had never been particularly close with my parents, but that didn't mean that we didn't love each other.

"Take care of Kit for me, please. And don't let her watch if-" My sobs increased and I couldn't finish my sentence. I didn't want my baby sister watching some psycho Career chop my head off during the Bloodbath. My parents simply nodded, too emotional to respond. I respected them for taking care of us when times were hard. They deserved to live a better life, but they had always put us first.

I pulled them in for one last hug, thanking them for everything they had done. We said our goodbyes before the Peacekeepers pulled them away.

Kit came running in next, throwing her arms around me, her blond curls flying into my face. "This is my entire fault, Juliet. I shouldn't have let you take all that tesserae for me." Her face was red and scrunched up, making me feel guilty for leaving her. Not that it was my fault, but still.

"No, it's not. Please don't blame yourself… I need you to stay strong for me. Do you think you could do that?" Kit nodded in response, wiping away a few stray tears from her cheeks. Reaching behind her neck, she unclasped the locket that she always wore and placed it in my hand.

I gasped, fresh tears forming in my eye. Kit had been saving up money for as long as I could remember and was finally able to buy the necklace earlier this year. Since then, she never took it off. I didn't even bother to argue, I just slid the locket around my neck, knowing it would be the perfect token. I pulled her into a hug for the rest of our time, wordlessly communicating what couldn't be said.


	2. Chapter 2

**A Victor's Ally - Chapter 2**

I entered the train with Ms. Carrot- I mean Hilda- prodding me along.

"Come along now dearies, there's so much we need to go over before we get to the Capital." She babbled aimlessly about things like the Capital fashions, food, and interests.

I snorted in disbelief. Why in the world should I care about what this season's popular color is? Our time spent at the Capital is basically fattening us up and preparing us to be slaughtered. Sounds fun, right?

Hutch came through the fancy sliding train door (seriously, is everything related to the Capital this high-tech?) with a drink in his hand, sloshing around and ruining the luxurious carpet. Too predictable. Almost all of the older victors had resorted to some type of alcohol or drug to get through the years, and Hutch definitely wasn't an exception.

"Nice of you to finally show up," Hilda sneered at Hutch. My eyebrows rose immediately. Maybe I had judged Hilda too soon; she obviously had some sass in her. "Where's my precious Lukey?"

I take that back.

Luke followed Hutch through the door, looking as if he was ready to throw up.

"Lukey," Hilda's voice was sweet, but suddenly turned sour when she mentioned the older victor's name, "Hutch…Meet this year's tributes from District 7. Juliet Breyer, 17, and Atlas Lennox, 18."

Hutch seemed taken aback by Atlas' bulkiness. He knew as well as I did that he was definitely a real contender. The drunk then moved onto me and looked me up and down, giving me a drunken nod of approval.

"Don't get your hopes up, kids. They won't let District 7 win two years in a row." He took another swig of his drink, earning a scolding from Hilda, but neither our escort nor Luke made any move to contradict that statement.

"I'll leave you dearies alone with your mentors now. Hutch, play nice." Hilda took her leave, adjusting her puffy, pale orange hair on the way out. As soon as she was out of sight and the sliding door between the train cars had shut, Hutch pushed past us, heading to the opposite end of the train.

I looked to Luke for an indication of what we should do next, but he once again avoided my eyes, looking away from me and out the window. After a moment of awkward silence, I huffed and exited the train car, wishing I had a door to slam to express my anger. It took me a few minutes before I was able to find my room on the train, marked by a door that read "D7F" which I assumed stood for District 7 Female. I yanked open the door, taken aback by the intricate decorating. Wow, I was definitely not used to this. I flopped down face first onto the lilac sheets, relieved to have time to myself.

What in Panem is Luke's problem? I knew that he would have a hard time being a mentor, but you'd think he would suck it up long enough to keep his best friend alive. He didn't even acknowledge that he knew me before the reaping, not that I expected him to. When he came back from the Capital, he wouldn't even hang out with me in public any more. We always hung out in the forest, away from the town and prying eyes. I just didn't understand…

The door slowly slid open, and I squeezed my eyes shut tight, conflicted about whether I wished it was Luke or not. I opened my eyes, surprised to see that the person who entered was not Luke, but Atlas.

"What are you doing here?" I asked in surprise, pulling myself off the bed. I stood in front of him, slightly intimidated by his giant frame. I might not be weak, but I was definitely lacking in the height department.

He took a step closer, the same creepy smirk displayed on his face. "I was thinking that we could-"

"If you're going to ask about an alliance, then I don't have an answer for you yet. We haven't discussed strategy with our mentors yet." I cut him off and shuffled backwards, not liking the closeness.

Atlas let out a hollow laugh, taking yet another step closer. "Come on, Julesy. You know our mentor's aren't going to do shit for us. Hutch is a drunk, and Luke is a big joke. And you know I wasn't talking about an alliance."

My eyes almost bugged out of my head. "And how exactly is he a joke?" I questioned, choosing to ignore the stupid nickname he gave me. I crossed my arms and gave him what I hoped was an intimidating glare.

"Please, he's pathetic. Me, on the other hand, well I'm different." He inched forward, the smirk growing on his face. I took a final step backwards, only to be met by the wall. Atlas pressed me fully against the wall, his hands on either side of my shoulders. I turned my head to the side, avoiding his eyes. Normally I'd knee him in the balls, but he was really creeping me out and I wasn't sure if that would be a good idea. "Kid, we're gunna die soon. Let's live a little!" His eyes blazed with something I couldn't quite catch.

A noise came from the doorway, and I looked past Atlas to find Luke, his body looking big and awkward in comparison to the smaller size of the door frame.

"What's going on here?" His eyes narrowed and his voice came out harsher than usual. Atlas stepped away from me with his hands up, the sadistic smile never leaving his face. "Get out of here, Lennox. Hilda is looking for you."

"Right. You're the boss, bro." Atlas passed Luke on the way out, purposefully knocking shoulders with him a bit harder than necessary. I could sense a rivalry between Atlas and Luke, probably having to do with the fact that Luke had won the last Hunger Games at the age of seventeen, making them the same age.

A moment of silent passed before I finally moved from my position against the wall to the more comfortable bed, causing a wrinkle in the silky sheets.

"I can handle myself, you know. I didn't need your help." _But I do need it if I'm going to get through these Games._

Luke let out a humorless laugh, knowing as well as I do that my words were indeed true. I had quite a reputation for roughing up some of the tougher boys my age. He stayed at his place in the doorway, shuffling his body so he leaned against the side of the doorframe. The blue-eyed boy made no move to speak, which only added fuel to my fire.

"What do you have to say for yourself, huh?" I stood up suddenly, my body tense. "You ignored me on the train and at the Reaping- which, by the way, would have been nice if you came to see me after, considering it was the one time I needed you the most." Luke opened his mouth to speak, but I held up my hand.

"I'm not done. You come waltzing in here, acting like you're some sort of hero, and then just stand there as if you're waiting for me to bow down to you. Well sorry _victor_, but it's not happening." I crossed my arms, slightly out of breath from my mini-rant.

Luke glared back at me, his eyes blazing. "You think this is easy for me? I went through hell in that arena, and there is absolutely no one I can talk to about it. My parents have become obsessed with the fame, my younger brother seems scared of me, and you just…wouldn't understand." He ran his hand through his dark hair, and I noticed that he was wearing it longer than he used to.

"And now, now that you're a tribute, I feel useless. I couldn't stop you from being reaped, and there's nothing I can say or do that will make much difference in the arena."

I stood as still as a statue for a moment, my jaw set and hands curled into fists at my side.

"You don't think I can win." I said in a quiet voice, directing all of my anger at the boy in front of me. Luke stayed quiet, holding my gaze.

"_You _don't think_ I _can win, do you?" I stressed, stepping close to him and planting a finger on his chest. He tensed for a moment, and although he had almost a foot on my height wise, he seemed scared of me.

He let out a loud sigh and finally entered the room, running his hand through his hair again. "No Jules, that's not what I meant." His voice changed from angry to tired, almost broken.

"Then what did you mean?" I wasn't about to let him off the hook that easy. "Look, you know just as well as everyone else on this train that I have very little chance of coming out of this alive. The least you can do is act like my mentor, let alone my best friend, and _support me._"

Luke's heavy footsteps seemed magnified in the small room- he never was very graceful- as he trudged over to me and placed both hands on the sides of my shoulders. "Listen to me."

"No, you listen to me!" I stomped my foot.

"Juliet. _Listen _to me."

I finally quieted down. Luke rarely used my full name unless he had something really important to say.

"I know I've been ignoring you, but it's for your own good." Luke glanced from left to right and lowered his voice an octave, as if someone was eavesdropping. "If they, the Capital, find out that I have any attachments to you what so ever, they'll use you against me."

"For what?" I questioned loudly, earning a 'shh' from Luke. My curiosity got the best of me, and I waited patiently for him to continue.

"I don't know, for anything they want me to do. I don't want you to be in danger…the arena is dangerous enough, but you're also at the mercy of the Game makers, and they would sick some mutt on you in a heartbeat if I refused to comply to their demands."

"They already threatened my parents and my brother, when I refused to, um, sell my body to the Capitalites." He looked away, embarrassed.

"Did you?" I asked quietly, no longer mad. After all, he was just looking out for me.

His eyes turned cold again and he stepped away from me, putting on an indifferent facial expression to hide the broken one I saw a minute ago. "What would you do, Juliet, if they threatened to torture your family?" The question hung in the air, creating a silence between us that was neither awkward nor comfortable.

Luke headed for door, pausing once to turn back around. "Look, I'm sorry okay? Stay away from Atlas, also. I have a bad feeling about him." His voice softened a bit and he exited the room, but not before I saw a mix of worry, fear, and desperation in his eyes.

Maybe this whole situation would be better if I hadn't ever met Luke before. Going in the arena, I could almost handle that. But I knew it would kill him on the inside to watch me on television and be unable to do anything to help me. And knowing that by putting myself in danger I would be hurting him, well, that hurt me too.


	3. Chapter 3

Ch. 3

The roar of the crowd was deafening as we stepped out of the train. I was surprised that people even bothered to cheer for us, but then I realized that most of it was probably for Luke. I'm sure they will cheer just as loud when they watch our gruesome deaths on national television.

Someone pushed me forward and I was suddenly aware of how I must appear to the Capitolites: wide eyed and open mouthed, staring at the crowd in surprise. Pulling myself together, I started forward, waving to colorful citizens of Panem. After what seemed like an impossibly long walk, we finally arrived at the Training Center.

Luke watched me with a grim smile, finding some humor in my dumbfounded appearance.

"First things first: We need to get you prepared for the Tribute Parade! I'd like you to meet your stylists Saffra and Nimmo!" Hilda stepped back from a doorway I hadn't noticed, revealing a man and a woman.

The woman had long, straight, white hair that reached her lower back. I could tell by the wrinkles on her face that she had been doing this a long time, longer then the man beside her. Saffra made her way over to Luke, her long hair swishing behind her and her tall heels echoing against the metal floor.

Luke enveloped her in a tight hug, and it was the first time in a while that I had seen a genuine smile make its way onto his face. While the previous victor and his former stylist caught up, I turned my attention to the second stylist, Nimmo. He stepped toward me, his snakelike movements making me instantly uncomfortable.

"I'll be your stylist for this year's games, darling." His voice held a false sweetness, as if he knew I wouldn't be around much longer. "We're going to need a lot of time to work on you, so I suggest we get started right away." His bony fingers reach out and grab mine, ushering me through the door before I have a chance to say anything else.

It wasn't until after my body had been stripped of hair that I realized how painful this whole experience of being a tribute would be. My body felt as if it was on fire, and this was only the beginning, a preparation so I would look nice when I entered the Games.

"Is this really necessary?" I snapped at the lady closest to me who was attempting to pluck my thick eyebrows. She shrank back in alarm, her unnatural purple eyes going wide.

"Now, now, Juliet. Is that anyway to treat these poor ladies?" Nimmo came up behind the chair I was sitting in, resting his cold hand on my shoulder. "I happen to be very close friends with the president, and I can assure you that if you are any trouble I will let him know." His hot breath felt foreign against the side of my face and I resisted the urge to flinch away.

He stood me up on an elevated portion of the floor, circling me with a scrutinizing glare. "You seem very athletic, not uncommon for your district, I suppose. But considering your small size, it's a wonder how you're so muscular."

"I'm a gymnast." I sassed back, not liking his degrading tone. "And I could snap your skinny neck in half if I wanted to." The words came out of my mouth before I could stop them. I actually had no idea where all this spunk was coming from; I wasn't usually this outspoken. I guess I had reached my breaking point, and I was only just getting started.

Unfortunately for me, a small smile appeared on his unusually pale face, as if he knew something I didn't. "You'd make a great tribute, really. What a shame."

In the second it took me to open my mouth and form a reply, he was already out the door, leaving me alone with the small group of overly perfumed women.

"It's really not that funny, Luke." I whined, putting my head in my hands. Or, I tried to. The branches sticking out from my hair made it pretty hard.

"Actually, it is. I mean, have you seen yourself in the mirror?" His voice held a great amount of humor, as if he was containing himself from obnoxious laughter.

"I'm a tree, Luke. A _tree._" I said, exasperation clear in my voice. It didn't seem fair that Atlas had gotten the good stylist, Saffra. The one who had somehow put Luke in a better mood. The one who seemed to make him forget that I was going to _die_ soon. And the one who had him laughing at me as if this wasn't a life or death situation. Which it totally was. How could the sponsors take me seriously?

I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest. After another look in the mirror, I knew I was going to be the laughing stock of the tribute parade. Even my district partner didn't look too shabby. His dark green, leafy suit looked better than my thick, dark brown one. Especially since mine was paired with a twiggy headband.

"I knew Nimmo wasn't too keen on me, but he could at least _try_ to make me presentable."

Luke rolled his eyes. "Come on, Jules. The stylists are here to help you."

"Maybe your stylist, Luke, but certainly not mine!"

Our conversation was cut short when Atlas walked up next to the District 7 chariot.

"You ready, Julsey? Looking mighty fine, I must say." His sadistic smile was once again present, earning a scowl from me.

"Stop calling me that." My eyes narrowed and I felt Luke tense beside me. The fiery gaze held between the two 18 year olds was enough to make me take a step back. "Let's just get this over with, you doofus." I sneered, pulling Atlas up on the chariot alongside me. I stood up straight and watched as the other tributes began climbing onto their chariots, making me look small and undesirable in comparison.

The anthem started playing and District One's chariot started through the massive double doors. I could already hear the deafening roar of the crowd, which was slightly intimidating.

It wasn't long before the District Six's chariot was no longer in front of us and ours began to move forward. My grip on the side of the chariot tightened considerably and my stomach was doing flips.

I was taken aback by the sheer amount of people who sat in the stands surrounding the chariot, all of which were looking at _me_. Not necessarily in a good way, either.

I had expected a few laughs from the crowd, some cheers, and a snicker from Atlas. But what I wasn't expecting was his muscular arm to snake around my waist, pulling me closer. My wide smile faltered slightly, but I couldn't exactly push him away with so many people watching.

"Hands _off_, Atlas." I hissed through my teeth, causing his smile to grow wider. He knew there was nothing I could do about it. I continued to wave at the crowd, subtly tilting my head to the side and raking a particularly long branch down his cheek. He grunted and slightly loosened his grip. I stood up straighter, feeling satisfied, with myself, but instead of pulling away like I imagined his grip only became tighter, his fingers digging into the side of my hip. I winced, knowing it would leave a bruise, but figured that I would be dealing with much worse in the arena, anyway.

After what seemed like an eternity we pulled back into the area we started from, where stylists, mentors, and escorts rushed up to greet their tributes. Low and behold, Nimmo was nowhere to be seen.

"What is wrong with you!?" I screeched as soon as the doors had shut behind us. I scrambled of the chariot and turned to Atlas, fuming. "You made me look like an idiot!"

Atlas laughed, a smug grin never leaving his face. "I was only helping you."

Hilda placed her dainty hand on his forearm, her expression stern. "I'd rather you not do anything we haven't discussed, Atlas dear."

I failed to hear the rest of the conversation because I was being dragged away by Luke, up a small slight of stairs and into a wide elevator.

"I can't believe him. I really can't." Luke rubbed his temples, indicating he had a massive headache. "I don't understand what the capital find so charming about him."

My eyes had surely bugged out of my head at that statement. "They _like_ him?"

Luke waved his hand dismissively. "I guess. They're comparing him to me, but I'm nothing like him." He spat, obviously displeased.

"I know." I assured him. The rest of the elevator ride was silent, and when we arrived at the 7th floor, Luke walked away to his room, leaving me behind. He poked his head back around the corner, point to my left.

"Kitchen is that way, if you want to eat. And I suggest you do."

I shook my head. "I'm not hungry." I sounded like a stubborn child, but Luke just sighed and turned away.

Walking back to my room, I plopped down on the plush bed. It was exhausting, being a tribute. I had to worry about my looks, the way I acted, my skills, sponsors, and not to mention fighting 23 other tributes. Quickly peeling off the thick bark and the twig headpiece, I climbed under the covers and drifted off into an uneasy sleep.


End file.
